


When It Counts

by temporalgambit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Team as Family, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: Lance and Hunk experiment with Altean food. Everyone suffers.





	When It Counts

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt:
> 
> "After who knows how long in the Castle of Lions, the paladins are DONE with the food goo. Hunk and Lance dig through the kitchen to make dinner. They find old Altean recipes to follow, and Allura and Cora insist they did a wonderful job and it tastes just like home! But the paladins start to feel not so good, and the very confused and concerned Alteans have to deal with pukey and miserable humans as best they can."

A loud clatter sounds from one end of the kitchen.

“Dude, there’s _gotta_ be something in this place to spice up the food goo. I refuse to believe Alteans ate the same thing every day of their lives in this castle.”

“I don’t know, man…” Hunk scratches the back of his head, “I mean, on their own planet they probably had more resources and stuff. Maybe they didn’t really think variety was important when they stocked the castle with goo.”

“Well _I_ , for one, believe variety is very important,” Lance gestures widely before delving into the back of another cupboard, “and since we’re running the ship now, we have to put our own stamp on _something_. I vote the food.”

“Hmm.”

Noticing the noncommittal reply, Lance straightens up. “What?”

“I found a book…” Hunk experimentally flips through a few pages, “…it’s a cookbook!”

“No way.”

“ _Way_ ,” he passes it over for Lance to see.

Lance pages through it, eyes growing wider at the illustrations. They’re w _eird looking_ , that’s for sure, but more importantly they’re different from the food goo. There are even little sketches of the individual ingredients. It’s virtually foolproof. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Only if _you’re_ thinking what _I’m_ thinking.”

“I _think_ we might be thinking the same thing.”

There’s a beat of silence, then they both burst out laughing.

This is gonna be _awesome_.

* * *

 

And it _is_ awesome, if a little confusing.

“Okay, we need a…powdery thing. It’s kinda pinkish.”

“Got it!” Hunk sprinkles a generous amount into the bowl. “Next is this yellowish syrup, right?”

“Yup.”

They continue on combining ingredients until they wind up with a pretty good approximation of the meal shown in the picture. It’s a somewhat alarming array of colors, separated into layers sort of like a parfait, but with a savory smell and a firmer texture. At any rate, it’s something new.

It’s with no small measure of pride that they present their creation to the crew waiting at the table, and Allura immediately gasps.

“You—that’s— _how?_ ”

“We found a book,” Hunk sounds slightly nervous, “Does it look…right?”

“It’s perfect!” Coran praises, the sound of awe in his voice, “Do you know what it is?”

They both shake their heads, wondering if they’d accidentally made some kind of Altean funeral food or something.

“It’s a traditional meal made for bringing people together,” Allura explains, “we used to eat it when extended family would come to visit. It smells just the way I remember it.” Her eyes have that far-away look they sometimes get when she talks about home, but she quickly shakes herself out of it. “Let’s eat!”

The other paladins look slightly wary, but once they get over the texture, they all agree that the change of pace is well worth it. Nobody leaves the table that evening without receiving second helpings.

And that’s where the trouble begins.

* * *

Pidge awakens to a strange sound right outside her door.

She grabs her bayard, silently trying to brush off a rush of dizziness, and tiptoes to her door. She assumes a fighting stance before pushing the button to reveal…

She blinks, brain still too sleepy to process what she is seeing, before dropping to the floor beside her fellow paladin.

“ _Keith!_ ” he’s on his knees, breathing hard. She sees no obvious sign of injury, although he has an arm wrapped tightly around his middle, so it could be—

“Don’t…please go away…” he grits out, jaw clenched shut tight.

“What?” she’s confused, but then—

He gags, a strangled sound in the back of his throat, and it only takes one more sick noise to bring up a voluminous splash of dinner, every color of the rainbow mashed into a brownish slurry.

“Oh m—” and she is suddenly _wide_ awake, realizing that her own stomach feels like—she scrambles back into her room, barely making it to the waste can before she’s burying her head in it.

_Oh quiznak, quiznak quiznak quiznak quiznak why is this happening?_

But the universe has no immediate answer, and even though she’s pretty sure she’s just managed to turn herself inside-out, she feels no better for it once she’s through.

 _Keith…have to help Keith…_ it’s the only thought she has as she shakily rises to her feet, grabbing the bin as an afterthought, in case… But her concerns are unfounded when her door slides open again to reveal one big mess, but no Keith. Though a sound from down the hall is a pretty clear indicator of where he’s disappeared to.

Sure enough, her slow trip to the bathroom finds not one, but two sweaty, pale crew members crouched in front of the toilet.

“Just breathe, you’ll feel better once—”

“I will n-not.”

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“I will n—” but fight against it as he might, Keith’s sentence is cut off by a loud retch.

Lance looks like all he wants to do is flee the scene, but instead he just turns his head away long enough to mouth, “He hates this,” at Pidge, before returning to pulling the red paladin’s hair away from his face. “It’s fine, you’re fine, it’ll be over in a minute,” but it’s pretty obvious Keith isn’t actually listening to the soothing babble, too wrapped up in his own personal hell to take notice.

The silence is almost deafening when it stops.

Lance hands Keith a small cup of water and leaves him to rinse his mouth. “You too?” the question is directed at Pidge.

“Oh, uh…” she suddenly realizes that carrying around what is essentially a bucket of her own sick is kind of strange, “…yeah. You don’t look so good yourself.”

Lance snorts. “I’m in a lull, but it’ll be back,” his voice is darkly resigned. “I barfed all over my bed. You?”

“Just…here,” she gestures with the can. “Are Hunk and Shiro…? And Allura and Coran…?”

“Hunk is hiding out in his room. He’s a sympathetic puker, so he can’t be around…” he gestures to Keith, then himself, then Pidge. “Shiro looked horrible, but he said he was going to check on Allura and Coran.”

As if summoned by name, Shiro appears outside the bathroom door, and Pidge can immediately see what Lance had meant by “horrible.” He’s visibly unsteady on his feet, he looks _exhausted_ , and his arms are crossed over his midsection as if he’s trying to hold himself together.

“How are you all—” he stops, trying in vain to clear his throat, and Pidge can tell he’s been sick more than a few times himself, “—holding up?”

She shrugs, Lance also shrugs, and Keith gives a wobbly little thumbs-up.

Effectively, a “no” from everyone.

Shiro sighs, nods. “Allura is checking in on Hunk. It seems like it’s—” a hand touches his shoulder from behind, and he jumps about a mile high.

It’s just Allura, of course, but he still steps back to lean against the wall and calm his racing heart.

She looks worried. “We think it may have been from tonight’s dinner. There were ingredients in there that Hunk said he’d never used before, and you seem to be having a reaction to one of them.”

“So what should we do?” Keith asks, sitting back on his heels.

“Well…” she looks thoughtful, “it seems best to try and keep you all hydrated until enough of it is out of your systems. It would be most helpful for Coran and me if you were all in one place so we could look after you better. Would you like to move to—”

“No.” Keith.

“Uh-uh.” Lance.

“Here feels…safest,” Pidge chooses her words carefully.

Allura looks to Shiro for help, but he’s already sliding down the wall.

“Fine,” she agrees, “I’ll inform Coran, and we’ll bring some fresh bedding in here so you can lay down properly.” With that, she’s out the door.

* * *

Though the bathroom is spacious enough, finding comfortable sleeping positions for four paladins (plus a fifth who has decided to sleep in the hall) is challenging. Allura returns with an armful of icepacks, and not a single paladin refuses the relief that is blessed coolness against feverish skin. Eventually, fatigue wins out, and everyone has a chance to doze.

Until a loud gurgle pierces the quiet.

Pidge holds her breath, but when nobody moves she has to ask, “Keith…?”

“Not me.”

“…Lance?”

“Nope.”

“Shi…ro?”

He goes exceptionally still. Then, all at once, he’s clambering to get his head over the toilet bowl, arriving less than a second before a veritable waterfall of vomit forces its way up his throat. She can hear Hunk out in the hall moan as Shiro takes in a ragged breath and heaves again. It’s nauseating to witness, but she mostly feels sympathy watching him choke and cough on the burning taste of bile.

Allura, having heard the noise from outside, pauses in the doorway, a horrified look on her face. She quickly recovers and drops to her knees next to Shiro in an attempt to offer some sort of comfort.

It’s over as abruptly as it started.

Shiro’s head hits the toilet seat with a _thunk_ that makes Allura flinch at the same time he reaches up to pull the handle. He stays there for a moment, trying to gather strength, then accepts her help on his way over to the sink.

He unceremoniously flops back down into his nest of blankets, shivering but making no effort to crawl beneath the covers.

Allura coaxes the thickest blanket out from beneath him, tucks it around his body, and presses the icepack to the back of his neck. He mumbles something that sounds like thanks, and she fakes a half-smile, eyes filled with concern.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers, taking one long last look at the miserable group on the floor before exiting the room. Pidge can hear her talking to Hunk—or maybe Coran?—out in the hallway, then the slow fade of footsteps.

Pidge scoots so she can see out into the hall, receiving a little wave from Hunk in return. He’s sitting up, and his hands are shaking, but Coran has taken up residence next to him and is speaking softly, words that Pidge can’t quite make out. Hunk nods at whatever he’s just said, a small smile gracing his features. Satisfied, she shuffles back in to look at Lance and Keith—they’ve both drifted right back to sleep, and it warms her heart to see their limbs tangled together. They know how to look after each other when it really counts.

Shiro, on the other hand, has rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. He still has a hand pressed to his stomach, but he looks more spent than anything else.

“Are you okay?” she has to ask.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, schooling his expression out of abject misery and into neutrality. “Yeah. You?”

She’s nauseous and her insides are still churning, but she doesn’t feel any immediate danger. “Yeah.”

But at the same time she says it, a tiny bit of loneliness hits her right in the chest. The last time she was this sick, she was at home. She had someone to stroke her hair and rub her back. Someone was there to whisper soothing words to her until she fell asleep. To give her tiny sips of water. To hold her h—

She realizes she’s reaching out towards Shiro a second too late.

He looks puzzled, even more so when her hand stops in mid-air. “Pidge?”

“Uh, I…uh…” she’s almost glad for being feverish, because hopefully he can’t see the blush on her cheeks. “I don’t…I thought…” well, she’s already come this far, “…I wanted…to hold hands?”

He blinks.

She draws back a little, “Yeah, um, never mind, I think it’s the fever getting t—”

But then he meets her halfway, gently entwining their fingers. “Like this?”

He’s polite enough not to say anything when her eyes suddenly flood with tears. She nods. Through the haze, she can see his genuine smile.

All five paladins are well and truly asleep by the time Allura returns.


End file.
